and spread across the northern sky
the storm builds, still high in the sky
it reminds me of a motorcycle trip
when avoiding the snow in Colorado
took me into the rain in Wyoming
still in the mountains, a hotel
maybe a dozen rooms but warm and snug
a cafe with a steak and coffee
and the rain trying to wash it all
away that night, I watched from my window
as if I could see anything
a scatter of raindrops around street lights
vague reflections from cars parked below
somewhere far behind me a family waited
somewhere far behind me a lover waited
and I had fled over mountain roads
past snow and out of state
into darkness like I’d never seen and rain
and still hadn’t found escape or solution
I thought of dressing again in leathers
and rainsuit, riding into the storm,
into darkness, as if riding farther into chaos
would make sense of the tangle I’d made
I didn’t, I slept under covers and woke
to a sky that had forgotten clouds
and rode all day as if I could too
No comments:
Post a Comment